


Cherry Wine

by FroggyFemme



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bad French Translations, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I’m not involved with the French mob I’m not even French don’t come for me, M/M, Mafia AU, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Jehan, Original Character Death(s), Tags and Characters will update as I go, Trans Montparnasse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:22:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroggyFemme/pseuds/FroggyFemme
Summary: The Patron-Minette attempts a robbery and gets caught up in the French Mob’s business. And Montparnasse gets caught up with French Mob’s favorite flower.
Relationships: Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Claquesous/Fauntleroy (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy/Éponine Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. For reasons wretched and divine

**Author's Note:**

> I am honestly not sure if this is good! This is my first real fanfic and any advice is appreciated! Take this self indulgent trash away from me now k bye.

Montparnasse knew he wasn’t a good person. 

Between his kleptomania, his temper and his status as a professional criminal, his morals were never in the right place. Knowing this, watching people do horrible, morbid things never really phased him.

Until now. 

Watching a dude getting mangled by les beaux voyous would incite a crisis in anyone. Probably.

Either way, it’s hard not to flinch at the vigor of these guys. 

Montparnasse was here on a job, like always. Babet had asked, or rather told, him, Faunt and ‘Sous to break in, steal this old ass vase, and get out without getting caught. She said it would be simple, and it was. Well, the plan was simple until some group of guys started to assault the man they were stealing from.

And that’s how they ended up here, sitting on the second floor’s balcony observing the chaos down below.

The group of men had brought a variety of weapons with them including golf clubs, metal and wooden bats, and an honest to god rolling pin. Fauntleroy notices it too, and leans over to him. “Damn. These guys are seriously into blunt force trauma.” ‘Sous just glares at both of them.

The man is hunched over on the floor now, trying and failing to hold back the blood seeping through his lips. Someone hits him particularly hard in the ribs, making him splutter. Between his coughing, the man starts to beg.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry! Please!”

“Vos excuses ne valent rien pour nous.”

“Please just let me talk to them! I was wrong!” 

Honestly, if Montparnasse didn’t know this man had to have done something seriously fucked up to get in this situation, he would feel bad.  
The pathetic pleading doesn’t stop the group of men, though. Their attacks are relentless and heavy pants are heard in between the man’s screaming and begging.

“Oui, tu avais tort. Il est trop tard pour rentrer maintenant.” One of them says, pausing to take a breath.

The man’s bruised and bloodied face looks absolutely terrified. Mont is sure that he must have pissed himself by now, with the harsh beating he’s received. 

He opens his mouth again, presumably to start begging for his life once again.

But before the man could say anything else, the front door opened. Through the door walked in a tall woman with her chestnut hair pulled tight into a bun. She looked older, and she was clearly an important person. She reminded him of Babet, though he would never tell her that. She wore a nice evening dress (even though it was noon) and her black heels clatter on the marble entryway. Following short after was a handsome man in a finely tailored coat that left Montparnasse feeling a bit green with envy. He had graying red hair and sharp features. If he wasn’t so straight-laced,Mont would’ve guessed he had on winged liner. They walked together like they were enjoying the other’s company, which would be sweet if they weren’t walking into a future crime scene. 

“Do you know who they are?” Faunt asked, still clutching onto that antique vase. 

After turning to peer down at the first floor, “Nah, not someone we’ve worked with before I assume.” Replies ‘Sous, the only one not watching intently. For all of his talk, Claquesous did not like blood. Would he make someone bleed? Yes, of course. It was his job for Christ’s sake. But, that didn’t mean he had to stick around and watch.

He tries to comment, but a flash of amber hair leaves him breathless. Behind the two intimidating figures is the most beautiful creature Montparnasse has ever lain eyes on. They are almost devoured by their large (and horribly tacky) fur coat, but a sliver of their green satin dress is visible underneath it all. They’re worrying their bottom lip between gapped teeth and Montparnasse can feel his mouth go dry. Their large golden eyes, full red lips, and smattering of freckles make them look more fae than human. 

Then, the faerie speaks, voice as soft as cotton.

”Mon oncle, je vous ai dit de ne pas faire grand cas de ça!“

“ Il vous a rejeté! Tu ne veux pas qu'il paie?”

"Non! Il a le droit de ne pas m'aimer! Je ne veux pas que quelqu'un soit avec moi juste parce que tu les menaces! Ne vois-tu pas à quel point c'est effrayant?" 

At this point, they’re practically yelling.

This person, fae or otherwise, is clearly upset. Their brow is pinched and the corners of their mouth are downturned in a way that shouldn’t be so endearing. Sensing this, the couple start to force the group to back off, before pulling the other man away to a corner to speak to him alone.  
Montparnasse suddenly feels very out of place. Dealing with the French mob? No big deal. Dealing with the French mob’s family issues, that’s a whole different story. And, even though it’s definitely more severe than just bickering, Mont knows that’s what this must’ve turned into. 

The couple in the corner is squabbling loudly with the man, arguing inaudibly.

They hesitate for a moment before the pretty redhead rushes over to the injured man frantically.

“Leon! I’m so sorry! I never wanted them to do this to you! Just know I respect your decision.“

This, however, does not comfort the injured man. He tries to sit up as much as he can before something in him snaps.

“WELL ITS TOO LATE NOW! I SHOULD’VE KNOWN BETTER THAN TO SPEAK WITH A WHORE LIKE YOU! OF COURSE YOU WOULD GET YOUR FUCKED UP FAMILY T-”

Before the man, Leon, can finish, the tall woman shoots him with her handgun, hitting his throat.

“Nobody speaks to my family like that, especially not my to my child, and especially not bums like you.” 

After a tense second, the group of people start to go back to their conversations. The pretty redhead slowly goes to mourn somewhere else and the family is still speaking in the corner. Soon enough, people start to head out. Mont and the others wait silently on the balcony, watching everyone leave. Some stay to clean up and after many garbage bags later, they all eventually trickle out. All except for the faerie, of course, who sits on the bottom step, looking forlorn. Montparnasse stops to marvel at how pretty they look when pouty, when a soft gasp escapes from parted lips as suddenly, two hazel eyes meet his own. 


	2. Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The jehanparnasse tag has been pretty empty lately so I’m gonna throw in my shitty writing

Jehan’s day has gone from bad to worse.

This morning, the alarm on their phone had startled them enough to drop it into their breakfast. Then, their neighbor, Marius, took the wrong package and proceeded to drop the box, completely smashing Jehan’s one of a kind, and very expensive, victorian mirror. So, when they received a call (on their spare phone) from their parents, Jehan expected the worst. Thankfully, it was just an invite to some exclusive restaurant. The night was gonna be fun, just good food and some quality family time. 

Or it was. 

Now, they’re sitting on the stairs with blood on their shoes and a heavy conscience. Leon was nice enough, and he definitely didn’t deserve to die. Jehan had met him in the library they work at, just a regular customer turned friend. They bonded over literature and their shared love of antiques. And, like usual, Jehan fell for him too fast. Two weeks into their friendship Jehan finally got the nerve to ask him out. He rejected them nicely, and though it hurt, they didn’t resent him for it. Leon didn’t owe them anything. Sadly, Uncle Claude didn’t seem to agree. They have no idea how he found out, but he did and this is how he reacted. They still can’t believe it even got this far.

They’re trying to make sense of this whole situation when they feel eyes on them. It’s a familiar feeling. Growing up non-binary and a child of two of the highest ranked people in the mafia, Jehan has experienced lots and lots of staring. But, they distinctly remember everyone leaving minutes ago. They look up and find two blue-grey eyes staring intently at them. 

The man they belong to is unfamiliar, but beautiful nonetheless. His milk white skin is a perfect contrast to the inky black curls framing his face, and his lips look like rose petals painted onto his face. They can feel themself flushing under his steady gaze, with both shock and embarrassment. The man seems aware he’s been noticed, glancing back and forth between two hidden figures. Jehan then spies two other people crouched behind the railing, both with shocked expressions on their faces. 

Jehan raises an eyebrow and asks, “Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?”

The beautiful man doesn’t reply, and neither do his companions. They try again, waving their arms at the crew of strangers.

“Hello? Parlez vous anglais?” 

“Y-Yeah we do. What do you want?” Says the short one who has a ruffled mess of blue curls. It would be charming if Jehan wasn’t so damn confused. 

“I mean I want you to answer my questions, but I feel like that’s a given.”

“It doesn’t matter what we’re here for,” the one with sunglasses on (indoors, why?) chimes in. “We’ll leave you alone now, not to worry.”

Jehan rolls their eyes at that. These people just witnessed an actual murder and they want Jehan to just let them leave? They looked smarter than that. 

“We all know that likely won’t happen, so please just come down from there and tell me who you are… please.”

The trio stand up and start making their way down the steps, the blue-grey eyes never leaving theirs. The eye contact would be romantic in any other setting, but it’s making them squirm under all the attention. They tug at the hem of their dress nervously as the others finally make it down to their level.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was left unfinished on purpose so I would have an excuse to finish it :)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is so short! My Tumblr is PsychicFemme if you want to talk to me abt this au! I’m also in need of Beta readers if anyone is interested! :)


End file.
